Chapter 179: "If Tomorrow Gets Hard"

Aren’s expression shifted at once.

"Oh. That song... it’s just something my brothers taught me."

She lowered her gaze, suddenly shy.

"We used to sing it whenever we had something to celebrate. A big mission completed without any casualties, someone’s birthday... things like that."

Caio’s smile didn’t change, nor did the quiet intimacy in his gaze.

"I want to hear it."

That made her even more self-conscious. There was very little she could deny him when he looked at her like that.

"All right," she murmured at last, her cheeks warming. "But my singing is nowhere near as good as my combat skills, and I’ve been told many times that I’m tone-deaf. So please... don’t laugh."

Caio’s smile deepened.

"I’ll try."

"That doesn’t sound reassuring."

"It wasn’t meant to be."

Aren gave him a small, suspicious frown, but eventually, she drew in a slow breath.

She tried to forget that he was watching her, but it was impossible. His gaze remained fixed on her with such unwavering attention that she could almost feel it against her skin.

After a moment, she gave up pretending otherwise. So, after a silent prayer that she wouldn’t embarrass herself too badly, Aren finally began to sing.

If tomorrow gets hard,

Think of the joy we’ve shared today.

When the sun has set and the sky grows dark,

Follow me,

We’ll find a light to guide the way.

...

The melody continued softly beneath the whisper of the night wind.

At first, Aren remained painfully aware of herself. Her voice was hesitant, each note carefully tested before she allowed it to leave her lips.

But the longer she sang, the more the garden around her seemed to fade.

Memories rose instead — memories of faces she hadn’t seen since she’d opened her eyes in this impossible new world.

For some lines, her expression brightened despite herself.

For others, a quiet ache passed across her features as she remembered everything she’d lost — the life that existed somewhere beyond a distance she could never cross again.

Caio lay perfectly still, doing nothing but listening to her.

He watched every change, every smile, every shadow. Every moment when sadness briefly overcame the happiness.

And as Aren continued singing, something painfully familiar slowly tightened in his throat.

He knew this feeling.

He had felt it once before, beneath this very tree — when he’d first heard the song of a small blue bird, and found himself utterly captivated by something so beautiful that he’d been terrified of losing it.

Only this time, the feeling was heavier, far more complicated. Because now, he understood what he’d failed to understand as a teenager.

’I don’t want to own this.’

’I don’t want to be the reason you stop singing.’

His gaze remained fixed on Aren as her voice carried softly through the evening air.

’No matter how terrified I am of losing you...’

’I won’t put you in a cage.’

At last, the song came to an end.

Aren released a small breath. When she looked down at him, he was still staring at her, still wearing that faint smile.

His expression, however, was entirely too peaceful for the words that followed.

"You really are tone-deaf."

Aren blinked.

The insult was delivered so gently that, for a moment, she didn’t even understand what he’d said.

She stared at him for another second before her brows slowly drew together in offended disbelief.

"I told you that before I started!" she protested, turning her face away with a small huff. "And you still insisted on listening. Now you’re teasing me too!"

Caio’s smile finally broke into a soft laugh despite himself. She looked so much like Biscuit when she was offended.

He tried to suppress the next laugh, but failed miserably and had to cover his mouth with one hand.

Aren glanced down sharply when she heard him laughing harder.

"You promised not to laugh!"

"I said I’d try."

"Caio!"

The warning in her voice only made him laugh again. Eventually, he managed to calm himself enough to look up at her, now with something almost pleading in his expression.

"Would you sing another one for me?"

Aren stared at him.

"But you just said my singing was terrible."

"I didn’t ask for good."

The simplicity of his answer caught her completely off guard. She wanted to protest, but he’d already closed his eyes, looking thoroughly content to wait for her to sing.

Aren sighed in surrender.

"All right..."

She was about to begin again when another thought struck her.

"Actually... there’s something more important I need to tell you."

He opened his eyes and looked up at her.

"What is it?"

"I might have to leave the estate tomorrow morning," she said timidly. "So I thought... I should tell you beforehand. It’s quite an important event."

The light in Caio’s eyes faded the moment he understood what she meant.

He’d nearly forgotten about the press conference entirely, too consumed by his own affairs to give it the attention it deserved.

"Is it the press conference for your contract with House Castellano?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Aren looked at him with mild surprise.

"So you’ve heard about it?"

"I’ve been waiting for you to tell me," he replied with a quiet sigh. "It’s tomorrow morning, isn’t it? I’ll assign someone to accompany you and handle the questions."

"No, wait..." Aren immediately waved both hands. "I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something. Would it be all right if I handled the questions on my own?"

Caio instantly bolted upright, retreating from her lap. He stared at her as though she’d just announced that she intended to walk into a war zone unarmed.

"Alone? All by yourself?" His voice sharpened. "Those reporters are vultures! They’ll tear you apart with every moronic question they can think of, and they’ll enjoy every second of watching you squirm!"

"I’ve heard they might do that." Aren nodded slowly, though quiet determination shone in her eyes. "But I’ve been practicing answering questions in my free time. I feel more confident about facing them on my own now than I did before. Would you let me try?"

Something inside Caio flared hotter with every word she spoke.

"But what if they ask something you don’t have an answer for? What if you say the wrong thing? What if you accidentally let something slip—"

He stopped himself.

The realization came sharply enough to make his jaw clench.

’No.’

’I’m doing it again.’

He closed his mouth, looked away from her, and forced himself to breathe.

After a moment, when he turned back, his expression was controlled once more.

"You really want to do this by yourself?"

Aren’s answer came quietly, but there was no hesitation in it.

"I do."

"You’re aware I won’t be able to be there tomorrow, aren’t you?" he asked with a resigned sigh. "My morning schedule is packed."

"Oh..." Aren’s expression fell. "I was actually going to ask whether you’d like to come."

She quickly forced a smile, unwilling to make him feel guilty about it.

"But it’s okay... I’d like to try handling the press myself. And you don’t have to worry! Jordan will be there with me, too."

Caio turned toward her so abruptly that Aren almost flinched.

His eyes narrowed.

"Didn’t that brat get shot and lose half his tank? What the hell is he doing there tomorrow? Is he actively trying to die?"

"Well..." Aren blinked at the intensity of his reaction. "Jordan insisted on coming because... he wanted to be there for me. And afterward..."

Her gaze drifted away, a shy flush warming her cheeks.

"...he said he wanted to take me on a date."

The darkness gathering across Caio’s expression deepened at once.

"A date?" His voice came out thin with disbelief. "Tomorrow?"

"After the press conference, yes." Aren nodded, making no attempt to hide it from him.

She watched the shadow settling across his face, and something in her chest tightened.

"You look... upset."

"I am."

The admission came plainly, without even the slightest attempt at denial.

But then the sharp edge faded from his voice, leaving something quieter behind.

"...Would you enjoy it?"

Aren was instantly surprised by the question.

"I think... I might," she said after giving it a moment’s thought. "But I don’t know yet what it’ll be like. I’ve never been on a date before."

She answered honestly enough, but Caio’s attention had already drifted elsewhere. He shook his head slowly, a bitter smirk tugging at his lips.

"That punk... he’s one tough bastard, isn’t he? Crawling out of a hospital bed only days after getting shot just to take you on a date."

He gave a quiet scoff, still unable to believe it.

"Of course he would. He literally took a bullet for you."

Yet as more words left his mouth, his expression gradually softened.

"But, funny enough... no matter how much I hate that brat, if I ever have to entrust you to some other bastard out there..."

His voice grew quieter.

"...I’d probably think of him first."

Aren blinked several times, struggling to make sense of the strange mixture of hostility and approval in his words.

"Caio, what are you talking about?"

Caio didn’t answer.

He merely shook his head.

He had no desire to explain the darker thoughts that had been haunting him. Especially not to her.

"What would you say if I wanted to take you on a date tomorrow?" he asked instead. "After you come back from the press conference. Would you still have the energy?"

Aren’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected the question, particularly after everything they’d just discussed.

"I’m not sure yet," she admitted. "But I’ll pay attention to my stamina and make sure I don’t overdo it. But... where do you want to go?"

His gaze drifted toward the distant trees, and for a moment, something nostalgic softened his expression.

"There’s a country house about an hour’s drive from Borgata. My family used to spend a lot of time there during the summers when I was younger. Does that sound like somewhere you’d like to go?"